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#10
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Quote:
For some reason, the first verse of a song came to me: "They're selling postcards of the hanging They're painting the pastports brown The beauty parlor is filled with sailors The circus is in town Here comes the blind commissioner They've got him in a trance One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker The other is in his pants And the riot squad they're restless They need somewhere to go As Lady and I look out tonight From Desolation Row."
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